


Flashing Crimson

by campsearchlight



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 01:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15853230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campsearchlight/pseuds/campsearchlight
Summary: Prince Whitley of Albion knows that something has been brewing in the country’s underbelly since his brother, King Logan, came back from the Shifting Sands a completely different man. He feels it in the halls of the castle: fear where there was none before.After Logan crosses a line Whit cannot forgive, Whit flees and seeks out the woman responsible for the group brave enough to oppose the King, hoping to bolster a change.Because, if Logan’s behavior continues—or, Gods forbid, worsen—the citizens of Albion will suffer a fate worse than death.(Currently on hiatus.)





	Flashing Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you read, feel free to [buy me a Ko-Fi](www.ko-fi.com/twiggy). Thank you!

Prince Whitley of Albion sat on the front steps of Bowerstone Castle. The sun had long since set, but he couldn’t be any more awake. He tapped the toe of his fine shoe against the polished stone. He could feel the eyes of the guards on him as they stood virtually motionless on either side of the large double doors behind him. He tried to stop, only for the tapping to resume moments later. Whit suspected his faithful companion, a black dog with white markings named Philip, was annoyed by the sound, but he never complained. 

Word had come a few days ago: _King Logan was alive_ , and he was finally coming home. 

One of the doors opened. He glanced over his shoulder at his mentor, Sir Walter Beck, who came to stand on the steps above him. 

“Thought I’d find you here,” Walter said. “He won’t be here for a while, Your Highness.” 

Whit shook his head. “I don’t care. I’ll wait all night. I just need to make sure he’s alright.”

“How about you get some sleep, and I’ll send word when he arrives?”

Whit looked up at Walter. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

* * *

Whit lay awake in bed for a long time. He didn’t know how long exactly; he had lost interest in counting after the first minute. Philip, however, snoozed peacefully across Whit’s feet. That is, until Philip’s head perked up, looking toward the door. A low growl reverberated in his chest, and Whit sat up. 

Beyond the door was a young man with coiffed blond hair. He wore a crimson military uniform—and was pushing the boundaries of just how good-looking one person could be. 

Upon seeing Whit, disheveled and in his nightclothes, the man averted his gaze and bowed hastily. “Good evening, Your Highness. Terribly sorry to wake you. Lieutenant Benjamin Finn, at your service. Sir Walter told me to inform you that King Logan has returned, safe and sound, but also to ask that you give him until morning, so he can rest.” 

Whit had met him during a few banquets and meetings here and there over the last year or so—not that Whit was ever invited to those meetings. Benjamin Finn, supposedly, was a rising star in the military. This brought the question: What was he doing here at the castle, when he should have been in the barracks?

Whit tried to keep his tone even, despite the combination of good news and exceeding handsomeness. “Um, yes. Of course. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Lieutenant Finn bowed again. “My pleasure, Your Highness. Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps give a message to Sir Walter?”

“Oh. Yes. If you could give him my thanks, please.” 

Lieutenant Finn nodded, and Whit noticed purplish bags underneath those bright blue eyes. “Very well, Your Highness. Pleasant dreams to you. Please excuse me.”

As Lieutenant Finn headed down the stairs into the garden, Whit felt the need to call out, “Once you’ve finished with your task”—the lieutenant turned on the steps and looked up at the Prince—“please get some sleep, Lieutenant. Eye bags are quite unbecoming for a member of the Royal army. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Lieutenant Finn cracked a half-grin. “Agreed and noted, Your Highness.” He continued down the stairs. 

Whit watched him go, then closed the door and leaned against it. 

Logan was back. Safe, for the moment. Whit could finally exhale.

* * *

Whit was accompanied to Logan’s bedroom by his faithful butler, Jasper. Before they entered, the old man cleared his throat and said quietly, “Try to remember—he’s not himself. Something happened to him in that desert, Your Highness. Maybe speaking with you will help him remember.”

Whit swallowed hard and nodded. Walter had come by his room at breakfast and told him that Logan had effectively gone mad. He muttered to himself, eyes darting about. He spoke of an ancient evil, lurking in the sands. Whit was likely to brush it off as heatstroke, but Walter did not seem so sure. 

Jasper pushed open the door and ushered the Prince inside. 

Logan lay on the bed, the quilt tucked underneath his chin. His eyes followed something Whit couldn’t see. 

When Whit approached, Logan’s eyes locked onto him. “Whitley.”

“Logan.” Whit gave a sigh of relief. At least Logan remembered who Whit was. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We were all so worried about—“

Logan waved a hand as he let his gaze shift away. “I’m fine. I’m merely exhausted from the trip home. Leave me.”

Whit stood still, stupefied by his brother’s coldness. Walter and Jasper were right; something was most certainly wrong with Logan. “Are you sure? I thought that you could tell me what happened. No one’s quite sure.”

“I said, leave me, Whitley.”

“But—“

“ _Now_.”

Whit couldn’t refuse. He retreated, and Jasper led him out into the hallway. 

As they made their way back to Whit’s room, Jasper said, “Don’t take it personally, Your Highness. He’s had a rough time of it in the Shifting Sands, from what I heard.”

Whit looked over at Jasper curiously. “From what you’ve heard? Where did you hear it?”

Jasper’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, my. I... well, I heard it from some of His Majesty’s guard detail—the one’s that escorted him from Bowerstone Industrial to the castle.”

“Who was in this guard detail?”

Jasper rattled off a long list of names, finishing off with _Lieutenant Benjamin Finn_.

Whit’s lips pursed. That certainly explained his presence in the castle. “Could you have—oh, I don’t know—Lieutenant Finn sent to the map room, please?”

“Right away.” 

Alone in the map room, a wide space with drab but classy furniture, Whit braced his hands on the lip of the circular stone basin that contained the highly detailed map of Albion. He let his eyes unfocus, browns and greens blurring together. 

Knuckles rapped on the threshold into the room. Whit looked up, and there was Lieutenant Finn, who bowed when the Prince saw him. 

“I was summoned, Your Highness?” he said. 

“You were,” Whit said, straightening his posture. “Please, come in. Close the door behind you, if you would.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before Finn did as instructed. He came closer to the map in the center of the room but stopped a respectful distance away. “What can I do for you, Your Highness?”

“I’d like for you to tell me what happened to my brother.” Whit turned fully to him, hiking a thigh to rest along the edge of the basin. “He didn’t seem to want to speak to me, so I had to turn to another source, you understand.”

“Of course.” Finn cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “When we picked him up at the docks, he was completely out of it. Mumbling to himself, looking at things that weren’t there—you know, obviously very normal things.”

“What was he saying?”

“I couldn’t hear most of it, but he kept mentioning ‘the Darkness’ and...” Worry clouded his expression. “And something called the Crawler. Scared me, if I’m being honest. The King saying things like that after being rescued from a vast desert.”

Whit tried to recall if either of those sounded familiar. Nothing came to him, except an unpleasant chill along his spine. “Was there anything else? He seemed... different.” Logan had always been caring and patient with Whit, who was twelve years his junior. Even though Whit was twenty years old now, Logan still seemed to care for him. But, for Logan to dismiss him so coldly when he was only trying to help? It was unheard of. 

“Anything else he said? Hmm.” Finn wandered a bit closer, his eyes fixed on the map. “He said something about it coming. Didn’t exactly give a time frame, but... Gods. With a name like ‘the Crawler,’ it doesn’t sound good, does it?”

The chill intensified. 

“The Crawler,” Whit echoed, and even without knowing what it was, he knew its name held up to snuff. “Nothing else, then?”

“Not that I can recall, Your Highness.”

Whit sighed and stood up straight. “Well, thank you for coming.”

Finn inclined his head. “Happy to be of service.”

Whit scrutinized Finn’s face. The dark circles were still there, possibly even darker. “Did you get any sleep, Lieutenant?”

“Uh. Heh. Would you like the truth or a lie?”

Whit felt his face shift into a full smile. “The lie first, and then the truth.”

“Oh, then, I had the best sleep of my life! Slept like a baby. Like a bump on a log. Like a rock. Out like a light. Dead to the world.” 

“And the lie?”

“Didn’t sleep a wink, Your Highness.”

Whit chuckled, shaking his head. “Then, I’m afraid I’ll have to make this an order: Get some sleep.”

“How could I refuse?” Finn bowed once more. “I’ll get right on that.”

“As you will.”

“Thank you! And”—Finn began backing toward the door—“if I may be so bold—you should get some sleep, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Eye bags are unbecoming of royalty.” He bowed again hastily and ducked out of the room before he could be scolded. 

Only, Whit didn’t have any intention of scolding, as he was thoroughly charmed.


End file.
